Onyx's POV
We stepped out of my room and into the living room.
My father was already seated on the carpet in his usual spot, the small wooden table placed in front of him. We did not have a dining area. We had this—our carpet, our low table, our simple routine.
And today—
Today, it looked like a feast.
Pancakes stacked high. Scrambled eggs. Fried rice steaming gently. Hotdogs lined neatly on a plate. A bowl of hot soup. Orange juice in mismatched glasses. Even tea.
We never drank tea.
"Good morning!" Pa greeted brightly. "Did you sleep well, Jace?"
"Morning," Jace said politely. "Yes, I did... um... Mr..."
He trailed off, glancing at me for help.
"The name's Walter," my father said warmly. "But you can call me anything you want."
Jace tilted his head slightly. "Onyx calls you Pa, right?"
"Yes. He calls me Pa. Short for Papa."
"Okay, Pa."
I froze.
I slowly turned to look at him, eyes widening. "Why are you calling him that?"
My father burst into laughter. "It's okay! Come, sit! Both of you. Sorry we don't have a dining table. We just sit here on the carpet. I hope that's fine."
"No, Pa, it's fine!" Jace said enthusiastically. "This looks fun."
Fun.
He said it like this was some cultural experience he had been waiting for.
Jace didn't sit immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Then, without warning, he reached for my father's hand and gently lifted it toward his forehead.
"Mano po," he said, his tone unexpectedly respectful.
* * *
Author's note:
In Filipino culture, "mano" or "bless" is a traditional gesture of respect where a younger person takes an elder's hand and gently presses it to their forehead to receive a blessing.
* * *
I blinked.
My father blinked too—then immediately pulled his hand back, laughing in mild embarrassment.
"Ay, no, no—don't do that," he said, waving it off. "You're making me feel old already."
Jace straightened, a faint grin forming. "It's just respect, Pa."
I didn't know he had that in him.
"Well, I appreciate it," my father said, still smiling, "but let's skip that part, okay? Just sit and eat. That's enough for me."
He sat down first—without hesitation—and then patted the space beside him.
"Boss, sit here," he said, smiling up at me.
I sighed.
Reluctantly, I sat beside him.
"So you eat like this every day?" he asked.
"Yeah," my father answered. "Breakfast and dinner here. Lunch too, if it's the weekend. Onyx is at university on weekdays and I go to work." Then my father added apologetically, "I'm sorry if this isn't much. If you want something else, Jace, let me know."
"Don't worry, Pa. I'm fine with this," Jace replied, smiling at the food like it was five-star cuisine.
"Oh! I prepared tea in case you have a hangover," my father continued. "We don't usually drink tea, but I thought it might help. If you prefer coffee, just tell me."
"Pa," I interrupted, "don't be too welcoming. Or he might never leave."
"Don't be rude to your friend, Onyx," my father said, laughing as he tapped Jace's shoulder. "You can stay here anytime you want!"
"Oh! Thanks, Pa," Jace replied with exaggerated humility. "But I'm shy."
He was not shy.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and smirked mischievously, eyebrows raised in silent victory.
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
This was a mistake.
Picking him up from that bar had been a catastrophic decision.
"Onyx doesn't usually bring friends here," my father continued. "You're the first. I just wanted you know that I am a cool dad. Easy to approach. Not strict."
Please stop.
"Don't worry, Pa," Jace said confidently. "I'll be here almost every day."
Almost every—what the?
"Can we just eat?" I cut in coldly.
"Looks like someone woke up in a bad mood," my father teased.
I did not respond. I simply began eating.
Beside me, Jace stared at the food as if unsure what to take first.
My father noticed.
"You have to try the fried rice," he said proudly. "That's my special recipe. Onyx loves it."
Before I could object, he scooped a generous portion onto Jace's plate.
Jace looked absurdly delighted.
"Smells amazing already," he said with a grin. "My dad never did this to me."
"I'll do it!" my father replied cheerfully.
Show-offs. Both of them.
"We still have more if you want seconds, Jace."
"Okay, Pa!"
I paused mid-bite.
So who exactly was the real son here?
I glanced between them—my father glowing with hospitality, Jace laughing easily like he had belonged here all along.
And me—
Sitting quietly beside him, pretending I was not aware of how naturally he fit into this space.
How quickly he adapted.
How easily he called my father 'Pa'.
I shook my head slightly and focused on my food.
Mind your business, Onyx. Ignore the way he nudged your shoulder lightly when he laughed. Ignore the way Pa looked at both of us with that knowing smile. Ignore the strange, dangerous warmth forming in a house that had always been quiet.
This was temporary.
One semester.
One partner.
One mistake.
"This is really cool, by the way," Jace said, looking around our dining area as if he had just discovered a hidden café in the city. "Even if the table is small, everything is really amazing."
He smiled when he said it.
Not the teasing smile. Not the cocky, infuriating one he used at me.
A real one.
And for some reason, that unsettled me more.
Our dining table was barely big enough for three people. The wood had scratches from years of use. One leg was slightly uneven, so my father had folded cardboard underneath it to keep it steady. The paint on the wall had faded where sunlight hit it every afternoon.
I studied Jace's expression carefully, searching for sarcasm.
There was none.
"Why?" my father asked casually as he served rice. "Don't you eat together at home?"
Jace leaned back slightly in his spot. "No. We eat at the same time only by coincidence. Usually I eat alone. There are maids beside me, just watching and waiting in case I need something."
He said it so lightly. So normally.
My father nodded slowly.
I stared at Jace.
We never had maids. We barely managed our bills now. So if he had staff watching him eat—
He wasn't just rich.
He was the kind of rich where silence echoes in large dining halls.
"By the way," Jace added, glancing at my father, "thank you for last night, Pa. Sorry for bothering you and picking me up."
I felt something twitch in my eye.
"Don't worry about it," my father said warmly. "I just didn't want Onyx to go alone, so I went with him. Did you drink too much?"
"He drank from morning until midnight," I said flatly.
Jace shot me a look.
My father sighed. "That explains it. Don't drink too much, Jace. It's bad for your liver. You're still young, so you won't feel the consequences yet. But when you get older, you'll regret it."
"I will, Pa. Thank you for telling me," Jace said obediently.
Liar.
He would absolutely do it again.
"And you, Onyx?" my father suddenly asked, turning to me. "Do you drink too? Or are you hiding it from me?"
I nearly choked on my water. "No. I don't drink."
"I'm not stopping you if you want to," my father said calmly. "Just drink moderately."
"Don't worry," I replied. "The smell alone makes me sick. I probably won't ever drink."
"That's up to you," he said, nodding. Then he looked back at Jace. "I'm not a strict dad. I just want Onyx to tell me what he's been up to lately."
Jace's gaze softened slightly.
"I wish my dad was like you," he said quietly.
The room shifted.
My father tilted his head. "Is he strict? Considering..." His eyes drifted to Jace's tattooed arms.
Jace followed his gaze, then chuckled.
"He hated these," he admitted. "But he couldn't do anything about it anymore. Yes, he's strict. But he can't control me now."
There was something underneath that laugh.
Something sharp.
"I see," my father said slowly. "Alright. This is where I stop being the cool dad and start being the worried dad. Since you're Onyx's friend, I might say something you won't like. It doesn't mean I dislike you. I just care about you as another son."
I froze.
Another son?
Jace didn't hesitate. "Don't worry. I'll take it."
My father's face lit up. "You're a nice kid, Jace!"
I rolled my eyes internally.
Nice kid? Please.
He was clearly working his charm. Winning my father's approval so he could freely invade our house whenever he wanted.
Cunning. Absolutely cunning.
We continued eating. Jace and my father chatted casually—about school, about hobbies, about random things. I barely spoke, just listened.
It almost felt normal.
Too normal.
Then—
Knock.
The sound was firm. Controlled. Not a neighbor. Not a friend.
All three of us turned toward the door.
"Are you expecting someone else, Onyx?" my father asked.
"No," I said, shaking my head.
"Stay here," he told us, standing up.
I watched him walk toward the door, something in my chest tightening without permission. He reached for the handle and pulled it open, his voice already slipping into its usual easy cheer.
"Hello! What do you need—"
The rest of the sentence never came.
He stopped.
And so did I.
Two men stood outside—dressed in black suits, black shades, clean and expressionless.
"Who are they?" Jace whispered beside me. "Your dad's colleagues?"
"No," I said quietly.
My throat went dry.
"We're here to collect the remaining debt you owe us," one of them said.
Loan sharks.
Of course.
They had chosen the perfect timing.
Our peaceful breakfast cracked open like thin glass.
"But we have an agreement," my father said quickly. "Monthly payments. I still have six months. I'll finish it."
"What's going on?" Jace murmured.
Jace didn't smile this time. The ease left his posture completely, his gaze sharpening as he followed every movement.
"Nothing. It doesn't concern you."
The men stepped forward slightly.
"We're under new management," one of them said. "You can settle the remaining balance now… or we collect it another way. Your choice."
The air changed.
Moments ago, there had been laughter.
Now—Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
"I can't pay the full amount right now," my father said, voice strained but steady. "But next month, I promise. I'll settle everything."
The man in front sighed as if bored.
"Then we have no choice."
He grabbed my father's arm.
"Come with us."
I stood up abruptly.
"Wait!"
End of Chapter 12